Cue the Floodgates

When I said it started to rain again, what I really meant was that it started to pour. But usually strong rainstorms only
last for a few minutes, and I was having fun getting soaked. So the poncho stayed in a crumbled bunch on the floor.
Woo! I'm a wild one.

As soon as Eden's Crush left the stage, the stage screens flashed the word "Countdown" at us, causing the crowd to
erupt in cheers. Then came the countdown clock, which started at thirty minutes. That shut the screams up pretty

After about ten minutes, the rain hadn't lessened at all. Instead, it continued to relentlessly beat against us. I waved
my arms in the air in a ooh-look-at-me-havin'-fun-in-the-rain gesture. After fifteen minutes, the rain still fell.

"Man, this is a torrential downpour!" Jessica remarked. I grinned and continued to dance like an idiot. I also began to
grab handfuls of hair and scrunching it in my fist, hoping to at least keep some of the curl. Jessy just looked at me.
"No," she said.


"It's hopeless. Not going to work." I shrugged, gave one last handful a squeeze, and gave up.

Sitting in front of us were three or four young kids and their mother. The mother had to go somewhere, and she asked
Jessica to watch her kids until she came back. "Make sure they stay right here. You hear, kids? Don't move anywhere!
Right here!" She turned to Jessica. "Make them stay." She then grabbed a rolled up piece of paper and handed it to
Jessy. "Use this if you have to!" For demonstration, she bopped a little girl on the head with it. She was a cool mom.

Sometime during our wait, a voice came on the speakers and told us that the concert was getting pushed back an
additional 45 minutes. Ah, wonderful. Actually, I didn't mind too much.  "Well, I'm going to the restroom then," I
told Jessica before I climbed over the feet of the twenty people seperating me from the aisle.  Okay, I'm exaggerating;
there were really only 19.

I wasn't the only one who was headed for indoors. The line to get up the stairs and into the stadium probably took me
a good fifteen minutes, and if not, it sure felt that way. Yeesh. Inside was even worse, just a jumbled mass of
slow-moving people. I could only imagine how horrible the women's restroom would be.

I imagined wrong. There wasn't even a line. So I got a stall, did my business, and came out to wash my hands. No
sweat. However, for some reason, the sinks didn't have mirrors placed over them. Instead, the mirrors hung in the
hallway leading to the door. Now, I'm not too vain, but I wanted to glimpse myself to see if I was at least presentable.
After all, any type of moisture turns my hair into a frizzy, tangled rat's nest without a nice bit of gel or other styling
product (it's a pain and I hate it and my hair has been cursed to spend an eternity in hell at least forty-two times). But
wouldn't you know, a small gathering of girls, armed with brushes, crowded the mirrors. Oh well. If my hair was a mess,
there would be nothing I could do about it. Ignorance is bliss.

The way back to my seat took slightly less time than getting into the stadium. Nothing seemed different, so I didn't
miss anything. Still it rained.

Behind us, there was a slight commotion as a couple of security guards talked to a blonde woman. Hmm, interesting.
The two young girls who had tickets behind us and were standing with us near the runway seemed especially curious
 - the blonde had come to the concert with them. I didn't know if they were related, or what - she looked to be about 25
or so, the girls about 12, and the mother about 35. Of course, I've always had trouble with ages, so I could be way off.
But anyway, as soon as the guards finished talking with the lady, the two girls rushed over to her to see what was up.
She had a big smile on her face, and the girls squealed (but in a happy way, not the annoying, patented teenybopper
way) when they heard the news.

I asked the girls what was going on, and they told us that she was going to be pulled onstage. Whoa! Pretty neat,
doncha think? The lady seemed really nice too, so instead of being jealous (well, at least angrily jealous) I was happy
for her. In addition, she was dressed nicely in a flowered skirt, nothing skimpy at all. So, you go, girl! In contrast,
Jessica pointed out to me someone in row ten or so who wore a bright blue bikini top. Please.

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